


self-voyeur

by rhysgore



Series: office affair [3]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Clothing Kink, Come Eating, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Feminization, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 18:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: “Ah ah. Manners, honey. What do we say?”-brief 'n porny sam/armstrong daddykink for father's day





	self-voyeur

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time ive participated in this holiday on this site and hopefully it wont be the last

Sam didn’t want to see what he looked like right now. Unfortunately, he had little choice in the matter.

 

His cheek was pressed against the cool surface of a floor to ceiling mirror, held there by Armstrong’s chunky palm tangled in his loose hair. Armstrong’s other hand was on his bent waist, holding Sam in the most comfortable position to pound him against the wall.

 

“God,” he hissed, fingers digging into the skin over Sam’s hipbone. “You’re so fucking tight, baby girl.”

 

Even if he wasn’t annoyingly and humiliatingly vocal, Sam would have known Armstrong was enjoying himself just from the noises he was making, low grunts of satisfaction as he shoved his thick cock into Sam, deep and hard enough that his pelvis slapped against Sam’s ass with every stroke. 

 

_ He _ was enjoying himself, at least. On the other hand, Sam’s face was chafing against the glass of the mirror, and every time he opened his eyes, he was forced to look at himself. Usually when they did this, his once solace was he didn’t have to deal with feeling like the dirty slut Armstrong liked to peg him as until after the whole affair was over. In this position, he couldn’t avoid it. 

 

With his lips swollen and makeup smeared from sucking Armstrong’s cock, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, hair sticking to his face with sweat, every thrust forcing his mouth into a pretty red circle, he looked like a mess. He was still dressed in the red-trimmed sailor uniform Armstrong had insisted he wear, but the skirt was flipped up, doing nothing to hide his stiff erection, bobbing up and down in front of him. In addition to that, his lacy black panties were tangled around his ankles, and half the buttons had been torn off his blouse, open to reveal the black bra pressing the firm flesh of his pectoral muscles up into a facsimile of tits. His stockings were still wrapped snug around his flexing thighs, but Armstrong had torn a hole in them, just large enough to expose his cock and hole- just enough to fuck him. His hands were pressed against the wall in front of him, metal and flesh both balled into fists. Sam  _ was _ a mess, and he loathed looking at himself like this not because of how debauched he was, but because of the knowledge of  _ who, _ exactly, had done this to him.

 

“Are you having fun, sweetheart? You’ve been awfully quiet,” Armstrong said behind him, grinding his pelvis in a way that made Sam moan in spite of himself.

 

“... Yes,” he murmured.

 

“Funny. It doesn’t  _ sound  _ like you are.” Armstrong’s steady thrusts stopped, leaving him buried balls deep in Sam’s ass as a hand wound in Sam’s hair tugged, pulling Sam’s head back, before releasing, letting Sam’s head slam back against the mirror. “You think you could fucking speak up a bit?”

 

Sam heaved a quiet sigh. “I am, daddy,” he moaned, fake, but hopefully convincing. Armstrong seemed to like it at least, if his noise of satisfied pleasure was any indication. “I  _ love  _ your fat dick inside of me, mmm…” He risked a glance over his shoulder, licking his lips as he caught Armstrong’s eye. “Daddy knows how to make my pussy feel good.”

 

“That’s my girl.” 

 

Ego sufficiently stroked, Armstrong resumed fucking him, the next thrust so hard it sent Sam skidding a few inches up against the mirror. His thumb traced down Sam’s spine, all the way to his hole, spread wide around Armstrong’s thick shaft. The touch made Sam shiver, clenching down slightly, and it must have felt good because Armstrong did it again, smirking with amusement as he watched Sam squirm.

 

“You’re so wet, honey. Your slutty little pussy is sucking me in.” Armstrong’s voice was becoming harsher, indicating that he was getting close, but to Sam’s surprise, the hand on his waist moved to his dick instead, Armstrong stroking him in time to his rough, relentless thrusts. That was unusual. Armstrong almost never gave a shit about anyone’s pleasure but his own, and had never cared enough about Sam before to help him out with his own orgasm. “So desperate for daddy’s cock, huh?”

 

“Fuck-” Sam moaned, only half-faked this time, hips twitching into Armstrong’s curled hand. “It feels so good- so big- I-”

 

“Do you want to cum, sweetheart?”

 

“Yes-  _ yes-” _ Without even being prompted, pleas dropped from Sam’s lips, words he knew he would be ashamed of later but couldn’t keep back now, not when he was so damn  _ close.  _ “I want to, daddy, let me cum, please-”

 

Armstrong thrust in again, squeezing his hand around Sam’s cock  _ just  _ so, and with a shout, Sam’s hips jerked, and he came, semen splashing on the mirror. Following close behind, Armstrong buried himself in Sam’s ass, filling him with hot ropes of cum. His hand was crushing Sam’s head against the glass, and Sam felt himself getting dizzy for a minute before Armstrong’s grip on both his hair and his shaft relented, and his cock slipped out of Sam’s ass. 

 

With a groan, half pleasure, half pain, Sam sagged forwards, sliding down the mirror and resting his entire body weight against its cool surface. He could feel his hole dripping cum and lubricant, desperately but ineffectively clenching to try to keep it all in. That was probably going to hurt tomorrow, along with his scalp and forehead, but he could deal with that later. Right now, the only thing that hurt was his pride.

 

“Look at that. You made a mess all over my fucking wall.” Armstrong’s shoe poked him, none too gently, and when Sam looked, he was pointing at the mirror. At the white streak of cum Sam had left there. “Clean it up.”

 

Apparently, his pride wasn’t done being hurt either. With a baleful glare, Sam turned back to the mirror, getting on his hands and knees and pressing his tongue to the glass. It was bitter, slightly salty, but the taste wasn’t the problem. His face turned red, waves of shame radiating through his body as he watched himself lap his own cum off of the reflective surface, cleaning it until it gleamed, shaking his still-leaking ass for good measure.

 

When he was done, he got to his feet, shakily, pulling up his underwear as he did so. He deliberately avoided meeting Armstrong’s eye, ignoring the insufferably smug look on his face as he straightened his clothes out, trying to salvage whatever he could of his stockings.

 

Sam was about to walk out, go scrub every trace of what he’d done from his body, when Armstrong abruptly grabbed him by the jaw, turning him around.

 

“Ah ah. Manners, honey. What do we say?”

 

After a moment of hesitation, Sam mumbled, “thank you.”

 

“Hmm. You can do better than _ that.” _

 

His nose wrinkled. “Thank you,” he spat,  _ “daddy.” _

 

_ “Much  _ better.”


End file.
